


Melodious Memories

by L_FLYHIGHT



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Frustration, Kissing, Love & Loss, forshadowing, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_FLYHIGHT/pseuds/L_FLYHIGHT
Summary: Dr Jameson Junkenstein was an enigmatic individual. Haunted by phantoms of the past he suffers. However, their is one thing in the good doctor's life that was constant, revenge. But somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind was the warmth of a woman.an x reader y/n format not used.





	Melodious Memories

**Melodious Memories**

 

 

Adlersbrunn once more held its annual celebration of the harvest. The castle, a beacon of strength held strong. Yet a shadow of sorrow loomed over its spires.  It would forever battle against the elements. Alone and cold. The Lord with a worn smile greeted his guests and proceeded on with his dignitary duties. Nearly the whole village attended. However, despite the joyous ambiance a certain few felt out-casted. No more so then Dr Jameson Junkenstein.

He abhorred these annual gatherings. He had such pride for his automatons. To see them battered and tossed like scrap made his blood boil. His creations mimicked the gift of life. Yet to some it was a perverse imitation. Brilliant but disturbing. Each one however had its own trait, an individuality that unfortunately only he perceived.

The music became white noise and the wine turned to ash in his mouth. He tried to ignore the whispers of distaste. The stares of disgust whenever he walked passed gnawed through his resolve. He grit his teeth.

Quickly he took refuge out on the balcony. The wind, a soft breeze sang through his hair. He inhaled, enjoying the quite. How he longed to be recognised in his chosen field of science. In truth he was a gifted man, capable of the impossible. He challenged the boundaries of science. As a result the people gave the scientist a wide berth.

The moon was strong yet silent. Its gentle light cascaded below. The good doctor, lost in his own dejection hadn’t acknowledged he had a visitor.

“Doctor Junkenstein, I presume?”

His brow slightly furrowed. He didn’t want to be disturbed. Slowly he turned.

Before his gaze was a woman. He paused. Her features were soft yet worn. She wasn’t ordained in fancy trimmings. Instead, wore a plain brown dress with her bosom slightly on view. His throat became dry.  An apron with blotches of paint addressed the hem.

He nodded. With an inviting smile she approached his side. He became wary. Never had someone, let alone a woman address him with genuine courtesy.  
   
“Don’t take the invite to insult my person, jest or dare I haven’t the care nor time”

His statement was sharp. She stood her ground.

“Do I have reason to spout such venom? Reputation or not good doctor I’m here on my own accord”

Over the years Dr Jameson Junkenstein practiced unorthodox methods of galvanism and omnic re-animation. Exaggerated whispers expanded far and beyond. As a result he was often met with revulsion. He wanted to prove his creations were more than just machine. That they were capable of something greater…

His gaze softened and his posture became more relaxed. She rested her back against the ledge. She was intriguing. Her mannerisms were fascinating – unrefined but still feminine. Abruptly he turned away. Heat dusted his cheeks.

“I don’t like these formal affairs either. Hm, permission hasn’t been granted for my access”

A dark horse, much like himself. He hung on her words despite himself.

   
“I’m confined to the grand hall, to paint it for prosperity”

His features became deadpan. His reply was dry.

“The abrasion on your palms as well as the chemical coating on your apron didn’t specify your profession?”

The good doctor wasn’t experienced in small talk. He was the brunt of cruel jokes and in turn he hid behind his walls.

Muffled merriment trilled behind the glass door of the balcony. He heard his name mentioned and the laughter became much harder to ignore. His anger coursed through his veins. His heart raced and his blood boiled.

“ARGHHHH!”

His frustration became evident as his fist collided with stone. She recoiled at his sudden outburst. His breaths became short. She was a patient woman and in truth found the doctor to be enigmatic. She had heard countless tales but none mentioned a victim of abuse. Constantly tested. Forever confined.

Gently she placed her hand on top of his fist. Her heart, steady. He paused.

“They all use them, as is their function. Time and time again to be tossed when superfluous to their purpose… there so much more then slaves”

As if to pacify his torment her thumb stroked his knuckle.

“There’s no shame in wanting recognition, you work to please many but in truth please no one”

His brow knitted. He held his tongue however.

“Every day, in a shop window I saw an intricate music box. On its top was a couple embraced in a waltz. Forever to gyrate in their lovers arms. Handcrafted and made entirely of oak it was a marvel to the trade of wood craft”

He sighed, Irritated by the lack of relevance.

“Oh, the music was melancholy but pleasing nonetheless. Yet beneath the elaborate designs and trimmings was a world not known. The turning of the key sparked life... The cogs would spin in unison and the complex machinations both working in perfect sync. All of it hidden away, so you could appreciate the craft on the surface. It made it whole…”

She had a distant look in her eye as she spoke. Suddenly he felt vulnerable. As if this stranger had stripped him down and judged his very soul. His mind was sharp as was her tongue. He couldn’t break his gaze. The urge to make her his was undeniable. However, he knew better…

She felt drawn to him. A kindred spirit, like herself was shunned from society. His features were refined yet slightly unkempt. A sheen of stubble coated his jawline. The doctor’s hair, shocking. Wild. Ethereal. The painter fantasised running her fingers through his hair. Heat peppered her cheeks.

Suddenly the lights through the window dimmed. The music while muffled became slow. It was at this time that various gentlemen, be it strangers or spouses would request a lady’s signature. Permission for a dance as was the custom.  
   
Slowly the good doctor took a step back. The warmth from her hand sadly dissipated. His arm rested behind his back as he bowed. Her heart skipped a beat. His hand extended and he paused. Never had a man so brazenly asked her for a dance.

He became apprehensive. Suddenly afraid of unforeseen variables. She blinked, shocked by his sudden request. His heart sank. Slow but with purpose she took his hand. With a slight curtsy she softly spoke.

“It would be an honour, Dr Junkenstein”

Carefully he placed his prosthetic hand to her waist, gently pulling her close. Without trepidation her hand rested on his shoulder. Certain he would hold her steady.

The wind, crisp and without flaw sang. Alongside its tune the village bell delicately echoed. The crickets chirped in time and the melody all coalesced. It was a beguiling mixture, the harmonious atmosphere mingling with the fauna. Eerie yet strangely comforting…

A trick of the light made his irises glow. She couldn’t tear away, lost in his golden gaze. He took lead and she lightly swayed to his movement. He was so gentle, his prosthesis beheld a grace not thought possible. His rhythm was smooth, without flaw and perfectly poised. A gentlemen through and through. She became content, safe in his presence.

A stunning creature… Thought only exist in myth and yet here she was standing before him. Shrewd and without fear she was a rare breed. His breath caught in his throat.  Her head rested against his chest and she sighed. His heart raced.

He had concluded it was not possible for him to woo a respective mate. The scientist had even tried his luck with the same sex. However the results were not affable. None would want him. Yet despite the odds here she was willingly.  A soft smile graced his features.

The music slowly died and their waltz was brought to a close. Contented both were reluctant to separate. The lights brightened and the laughter continued once more. Jameson’s eyes narrowed. He held the Painter close. As if her embrace would ease his torment.

The noise disrupted the spell and her senses returned. Yet she remained, nestled in his arms. He shifted and she caught his gaze. That eerie gold held her still. Enthralled. Stunned. Fallen…

He leant down slightly. Their noses flitting like a butterfly to a bloom. She was hesitant and yet so was he. His breath became shallow. Her heart palpitated against her bosom.

His lips were like the horizon and terrain, just begging to be explored. How she desperately wanted to taste the unknown.  She licked her top lip. He tried to swallow, his throat still dry. But still he was curious…

Something as chaste as a kiss was a rare happenstance. The good doctor didn’t have a need to trifle in such matters. He focused solely on his work. However the prospect did entertain his curiosity. He contemplated _“what did it feel like, a stimulant perhaps?”_   Oh, to while away – forbidden things.

She tilted her head. The good doctor could feel her breath. Hesitant in their action but bold with purpose he closed the gap. Lips just a breath away…

**KRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKK!**

Startled by the sudden crash they separated. Cries of alarm blanketed through the window. Muffled but distinct the sound of crashing live wires and wild electricity was unmistakable. Defeated Doctor Junkenstein sighed.

“Forgive me but I believe I have been summoned. Unfortunate but anticipated. I bid you adieu”

He turned away glad she couldn’t see the sorrow in his features. He was cold in his reply, hoping it would deter any feelings he had. To pursue such a rare creature was deemed foolish.

The painter was awe struck and her heart felt heavy. Not quite a rejection but it hurt nonetheless. She inhaled sharply.

  
Just as he was about to take his leave from the balcony he felt a sudden twist to his wrist. With a strength not thought possible he was pulled into an embrace.

“Hmmmmph!”

It took a moment for him to register what had just occurred. His lips were caught in a kiss. He blinked a few times but quickly fell into it. He wrapped his hand to the back of her head.

“hmmmm…”

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss. She could feel his heart and hers raced in unison. If the dignitaries took witness they would have chastised her actions. She didn’t care...

Reluctantly she parted from him. He would have taken it further had he permission but alas duty beckoned. The doctor silently praised her restraint.

She smiled at him and gave a slight curtsy.

“Till the next, good evening Doctor Junkenstein”

 

=======================

 

The Intricate machinations were slowly replaced. Arduous hours were spent in repairing and replacing various components. The 18 note mechanism or movement was a difficult task. Over the years it had worn and he had to replicate each hole so the tune would be identical as the one before it. Melancholy but pleasing…

He worked on it in secret, away from the glare of the dread servant and the witch’s all seeing eye. Even his greatest creation, his monster was clueless.

Every time the witch revived him he felt a fragment of his mind missing. One thing was constant, revenge. But somewhere deep within the recesses of his memory was a woman. Her smile was warm, meant only for him. That much he knew. Remembering a kiss on a balcony and a dance now lost to the winds.

The music box, he built it for her… Instead of oak he melted silver and iron. Her image was casted as was his own, to gyrate with the turning of the key. If he would at some point completely forget he would have a reminder of what was.

  
His memory at best was fragmented. He became frustrated when he couldn’t pin point the origin. Was it a fantasy or recollection?

How she sought his attention. Defied his temper. How she would bring him a basket of food when he holed himself away. He wasn’t sure if he brought her to the comfort of his bed. Felt her flush body as she succumbed to his warmth.

He shook his head. Trying to clear it. He deduced it was mere fantasy and yet why did he painstakingly repair this trinket?

His heart ached but the sight of his beloved monster numbed his torment. If not briefly…

**Author's Note:**

> a somewhat gothic romance. I love the whole lore of dr junkenstein and wanted to expand on it a little more.  
> Good eye for catching the quote of edgar allen poe if not try to find it.


End file.
